It’s magic: How I got into LA’s most exclusive address

“Do any of my friends know a magician”, I type into my phone, tailing the request with a twinkling wand emoji. This is not a Harry Potter fetish, nor am I hung-up on Houdini. My attempt to gain access to one of LA’s most exclusive addresses starts where most things do these days: on social media. Anyone with the right amount of money, looks or status can blag their way in LA. But you’ll need a few tricks up your sleeve to get into 7001 Franklin Avenue.

Surrounded by the macro billboards and neon lights of Hollywood, The Magic Castle is an invitation-only private members club that looks like it belongs in a snow globe. Built in 1909 by a wealthy banker, the heritage-listed Gothic renaissance chateau was restored into a hub for the magical arts in 1963 by the Larsen brothers. The stained-glass windows are original Tiffany & Co. According to a tribute on the website, co-founder, actor and writer Milt Larsen died this year at age 92. The headquarters for members of the non-profit “Academy of Magical Arts”, it’s open every night for dining, drinks and a variety of shows. If you can get in.

There are many things that money can buy in Hollywood, but magic isn’t one of them. To gain entry to this Hollywood society, you need to be invited by a member, pay for a stay at the Magic Castle Hotel nearby or become a member yourself (if you practise magic). The first option seems like my best bet. After a dead-end lead on Facebook, Instagram pulls a rabbit out of a hat. Within a couple of hours, a world-travelling circus performer I’d matched with on a dating app years ago connects me with a magician friend who works at The Magic Castle. Ta da!

That was the easy part. I’m promptly emailed a booking code, which includes a long list of rules and a strict, somewhat dated dress code (for women, no shorts or rompers). It’s mandatory for anyone entering to dine, and every guest must order a main. It was sounding less like an exclusive invite and more like a military drill. Archaically, reservations are made over the phone with a credit card, and after an hour-long wait on the phone from Australia with 20 punters ahead of me, I finally secure a booking.

Arriving at the Magic Castle feels a little like flopping out of a limo on The Bachelor. There’s a long line of people dressed in black-tie and over-the-top sparkly ball gowns and stilettos. I’m wearing an Obi Wan Kenobi-esque cloak over a more low-key ensemble that’s giving wizard vibes. It’s freezing outside and the queue moves slowly. When we reach the front desk, the woman at reception asks “Who are you here with?” I stumble back with “ourselves” and mentally kick myself in the shin as my friend lets out a cackle.

The gatekeeper takes pity on me and next thing I know we’re shouting “open sesame” at a small wooden owl on a bookshelf. The shelf peels sideways to reveal a passageway, where a large sign overhead reminds us that cameras are forbidden. Inside it’s all dark wood, antique banisters, weird art and vintage paraphernalia. Journey plays on an unmanned piano, then Lady Gaga. People are mingling at a small, carpeted bar with stairways leading up and down. “Have you seen the artwork on the walls here? It’s wild,” says my friend Lizzy. I may have only had one Mystical Margarita but I swear I see a woman in a painting move out of the corner of my eye.

The Magic Castle is a 929 square-metre maze of bars, restaurants and theatres, and shows are held at intervals throughout the night. You can arrive as early as 5pm, but we’ve timed our visit for dinner and the “Palace of Mystery” show at 10pm. In the busy Dante dining room upstairs, we both order the signature Beef Wellington. It’s surprisingly tasty, but no amount of magic could make the bill disappear. This is not a cheap night out – with dinner, drinks, tips and entry, it’s more than $US200 ($299) each. But it is an interesting diversion from the Hollywood norm.